The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

feet, humming. Another scream, this time the enemy’s. With the astonishment of being alive his only thought, Simon wrapped both arms around the boy and stepped out with his right foot onto nothingness.

Seventh Gathandrian Interlude

    Annyeke
    “That is impossible.”
    The First Elder was standing in Annyeke’s work-area while she and the other elders stared at the newly repaired mind-circle. It was not as it should have been of course; already it was fading, but the few moments of the travellers’ plight that they had seen was real enough.
    “The scribe touched the mind-cane,” Annyeke whispered. “It is so.”
    The elder brought his fist down with a thump at the edge of the table. Annyeke’s papers slid onto the floor. As she knelt to retrieve them, her heart was beating quickly. She’d never seen any of the elders become angry before, and now she could tell how much he was holding back; flashes of dark crimson and orange were sparking from his head. It wasn’t simply anger however, but something else she couldn’t quite grasp. Frustration? If so, why? It was true that Simon shouldn’t be able to touch the mind-cane. No one should, except he who possessed it. She could not understand it. Was the elder angry because the scribe had touched the cane, or because he had not managed to hold onto it? Since the strange gift of the mind-circle, she’d begun to see the true emotions in everyone, even glimpse them in herself. She wasn’t sure she liked it. But she wished now that she could interpret the unexpected more fully.
    Still, it was important she say nothing. She’d invited them here for their meeting for a reason. One she intended to follow through.
    She dropped her papers back on the table, taking care to avoid anyone’s glance, and regained her seat. She didn’t bother checking if her work was still in the same order; unlike Johan she was not obsessed with tidiness. Women were far too creative to be worried about such nonsense.
    “Would you like water?” she asked as the elder regained his composure. The flashes around him paled to pink.
    He shook his head. “Forgive me. The pressures, you understand, have been great.”
    The small flames around the other elders quivered and spat. Annyeke rubbed her legs and felt her companions’ surprise at their leader’s words. First a strange anger, now an admission of weakness. Whatever next, she wondered? A request for her opinion? No, that would surely be a step too far.
    Now she simply nodded. “Of course. I can imagine. The good thing about it all is that our friends and their charges are alive. That is surely the most important part.”
    Around the table nods followed. Annyeke smoothed back her hair, trying to contain it in its plait. So many emotions amongst the leadership at her words, only some of it relief. So many secrets.
    When the elders left her, she sat at the desk for a while. The room still smelled of lavender and apple-blossom, but her supplies of dried herbs were running low. The promise of the lemon leaf was small and no further signs of growth had been seen so far. Not in her neighbourhood. The walls around her were mainly bare—Johan’s choice, not hers—though he had made no objection when she brought in a set of three glass engravings she’d purchased at the market with her first wages. In the days when the market still existed. She smiled at them now. All of them showed scenes from the park in summer and were painted with skill. She’d always found them relaxing; they helped with her meditation work. Johan had, she thought, begun to enjoy them. Just before he’d left.
    Sighing, she stared at his desk, so very different from her own. Where her workspace was strewn with notes and papers, his was as empty and regimented as if it was never in use. It was one of the things she teased him about. She hoped she would be able to tease him about it again one day.
    No. No time for this. She must concentrate. As soon as the flames she sensed on the elders were far enough away for her to be safe from detection, she glanced at the place where the mind-circle had rested.
    “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, now we’ll see.”
    She left quickly, striding down the corridors and smiling at the one or two workers still preparing for the journey home.
    “Don’t be too long,” she called out. “Dusk is nearly over.”
    They nodded a response. She hoped they’d get home safely. Admittedly, the attacks recently had been fewer in number, but